


The Flu

by chiefmomboss



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3971962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiefmomboss/pseuds/chiefmomboss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuvira insists on going about official business despite having a nasty fever. Baatar insists she let someone take care of her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Flu

Kuvira paused in pinning her hair up to cough. The neatly rolled bun fell loose and hair tumbled down her back. She pouted and took the pins out to start over.

Her cheeks were flushed. She’d put off putting her armor on because “just looking at it made her shoulders ache.”

“Honey, no offense,” Baatar started.

She met his eyes through her reflection. “Sure.”

“I think you should go back to bed,” he said.

She sighed, then started to cough again. “I’m fine.”

“Please finish that tea at least,” he said. “It’ll help your throat.”

Kuvira clipped in her hair and grabbed the china cup on the bathroom counter. She finished the hot tea in one gulp. “Happy?”

Baatar came up and gently took the cup from her. “Yes, thank you.” He left to set the cup on the tray of half-eaten breakfast she’d been brought. She wasn’t hungry, nothing had much taste—so she said. He sighed. She hadn’t slept well; all she’d done last night was cough and roll over.

Kuvira appeared from the bathroom and wandered to the mannequin with her armor on it. She lifted it up and set it on her shoulders.

“I’m sure there’s someone in town who will see you,” he offered.

She shook her head as she slid her gloves on. “I’ll be fine.”

The train came to a stop, and Kuvira stepped back with it. She grabbed onto the mannequin. Baatar bit his lip before he said something and got into trouble.

She stood up straight set the back of her hand on her forehead. “This one will go fast,” she said, probably to herself. “They called us here.”

He set a hand on her back as they walked through the train. The metal was cold, but he had a feeling the underside against her body was hot. Her breath was raspy. She moved slower than usual. Baatar grabbed the terms paper from the guard and handed it to her so she didn’t touch anyone. No one else on this train was getting sick.

The governor stood at the train station, waiting for them just behind the painted yellow line. He shook Kuvira’s hand pretty vigorously and she pretended not to be irritated. She offered the terms to the older man, who let go of her hand to take the page.

“This is a little more intense than I thought,” the man said.

“If you want the full protection of my army, you need to sign over your state to me,” she said. “You’ll retain all your power—but you and your citizens will be loyal to me and the Earth Empire. Those are our terms.”

The governed started to sweat. “I need to take this to my council,” he said.

“We’ll wait at the border,” she said, and Baatar could hear the cough catch in her throat. “You have until tomorrow afternoon to decide.”

The man nodded. “You can’t do anything to help without these—these terms?”

Kuvira sighed. “No. My army is not a charity—this is about stabilizing the Earth Empire and restoring order. Not handouts.”

She adjusted her feet, which she never did. Baatar could see a bead of sweat roll down the side of her face. She took a long, raspy breath.

“My people are starving,” he begged.

“You’re welcome to wait for Tenzin’s little airbenders, but I promise you,” she said. “They can’t offer what we are. My army can protect you indefinitely from the bandits and return your state to some sense of normalcy—there aren’t enough airbenders for that.”

The man nodded. His fingers fumbled over the page. “I still need to consult my advisors.”

Kuvira’s face lost its edge with the red cheeks. She looked embarrassed instead of threatening. Baatar was amazed the man was still intimidated by her. Maybe her raspy voice made up for the tired eyes and fevered face. “You have until tomorrow afternoon,” she repeated.

“Hopefully we can come to an agreement.”

Kuvira’s jaw tightened. “My terms are not—”

Her knees gave out and she started to fall. Baatar caught her, and she came to but she leaned on him.

The governor was startled more so, but he reached his hand out. “We have a doctor in town,” he said. “He’d be happy to look you over.”

“I’m fine,” she said. He thought her face got redder from embarrassment.

“Thank you, though,” Baatar added, and he blamed his mother for the polite reflex.

Baatar led the flushed and sick Kuvira back to the train. Inside, she immediately pushed him away and collapsed onto a bench.

“Get her a cool towel,” he said to one of the guards.

Kuvira set her hand over her face, but Baatar took her wrist and pulled the glove off.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Don’t touch me.”

“Kuvira, you have a fever, you shouldn’t have these on,” he argued.

“I’m not hurt, I can handle it,” she said, pulling the other glove off. She leaned back and pressed her cheek to the cool metal.

The guard returned with a towel and handed it to her. She set it on her forehead. “I’m fine,” she said. “Leave me alone.”

Her guards disappeared through the train, but Baatar stayed. He sat on the floor in front of her. “Do you need something?”

“Leave me be, please.”

“You should take that armor off—”

“Baatar, leave me alone.”

He got up and patted her knee. “Please let me walk you back to bed.”

“No, out.”

Baatar sighed. “Alright. Let me know if you need something.”

He left the train car and wandered back to her car where they’d set up his drafting table. He looked over the drawing—draft seven—but didn’t see a reason to work on it. Someone had taken the breakfast tray away and made the bed. He turned down the blankets for her as the train started to move again.

* * *

 

“Sir,” Zhu Li said, and both Baatar and Varrick looked up from the open control panel spilling out wire guts. She pointed to Baatar. “I think you should see something.”

Baatar followed Zhu Li through the cars until they came upon the one he’d left Kuvira in. He smiled.

Kuvira was curled up on the bench and sound asleep. She hadn’t taken the armor off, and it was pushed up on her shoulders and looked uncomfortable. Her arms folded over her chest. The towel sat on a table.

“Thanks, Zhu Li,” he whispered.

She nodded and slipped out.

Baatar knelt down on the floor and put a hand on her knee. “Honey,” he said. “Kuvira.”

She pulled her eyes open. “Shit,” she mumbled and tried to sit up. She groaned, then started to cough.

“Want some help?” he asked.

She nodded.

He got up, took her hands, and pulled her to her feet. The armor clanged as it slid back down her body, and she let out a small cry.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

She shook her head. “This needs off.”

Baatar took hold of the armor from the bottom of the shoulders and gently pulled up. She grit her teeth as he eased the armor shell off. Usually she bent it off, but Baatar insisted non-metalbenders be able to get it off if she was ever hurt. He carried the metal encasing under his arm, her two cuffs on his forearm, and set his free one around her as they walked to her car.

“How was your nap?” he said gently.

“Fine,” she breathed. “That governor probably thinks I’m insane.”

“He wanted to help you, honey, I think we should’ve seen that doctor,” he said.

“No,” she growled. “That whole state is almost bare what good could he have done anyway.”

“Alright.”

He tried to walk at her pace and not force her along. She coughed, mumbled about how annoying the coughing was. Back in her car, she nearly dropped onto the couch as he set the armor back on the mannequin. “Take your uniform off,” he said. “I’ll send it to be washed so it’ll be clean tomorrow.”

Kuvira groaned about having to sit up, but she peeled the damp-with-sweat tunic off and handed it to him. She slid her boots off. Baatar stacked the boots by the mannequin and hooked her belt around it.

He sat on the couch, and she immediately curled up and set her head in his lap.

“No, up,” he said. “Your shoulders bugging you?”

“Yeah,” she breathed.

Baatar pushed her up and rubbed her shoulders. She seemed reluctant only in her pout, but it faded as little cries escaped her lips when he freed knots. “Headache?” he asked gently, reaching for the barrette in her hair.

She nodded, so he unhooked the metal bar and worked it out of her hair. He combed his fingers through her long hair and gently removed all the pins. Baatar hadn’t set the handful of hair pins on the coffee table before she leaned against him. “Thank you,” she said.

“Can I get you anything?” he said, brushing hair out of her eyes. “Tea, soup, a cold towel?”

She patted his knee. “This is fine.”

He leaned into the couch and let her adjust until she was comfortable jabbing her shoulder into his thigh. Kuvira kept one hand curled over his knee and the other up by her face, and Baatar wished he had his notebook to sketch it down before she moved. He stroked her hair and played with the ends until she started to snore lightly. He leaned down and kissed her pink cheek.

“Don’t kiss me,” she murmured. “I’m sick.”

“What was that?” he said, tucking hair behind her ear.

“Don’t kiss me, I’m sick,” she repeated a little louder.

“You’re what?”

She sighed, coughed twice. “I’m sick—you caught me.”

He smiled. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s funny to hear you admit it.”

She weakly punched his knee. “Don’t kiss me, though, please.”

“Alright.” He scooped her into his arms, and she protested by tapping a loose fist against his chest.

“I was comfy,” she argued.

“You’ll be more comfy in bed, I promise,” he said. He carried the sleepy Kuvira across the room to her bed and set her down. Before he could walk away to get her a cold towel, she grabbed his wrist.

“Thank you,” she breathed. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Kuvira.” He squeezed her hand. “Sweet dreams.”

Kuvira was dead asleep when he returned with the damp, cool towel, and he carefully draped it over her forehead.

 

 


End file.
